


you never have to hide

by lukegodbaby



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 16:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18528403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukegodbaby/pseuds/lukegodbaby
Summary: after a hard day, Belch and Henry head to the quarry





	you never have to hide

As Belch pulled into Henry’s driveway, he changed the radio station from rock to country.

He knew by how Henry had sounded on the phone what kind of day it was going to be. Rough, so why not soften the blow?

Henry stomped out of his house towards the Trans Am, towards Belch, and Belch knew — he wasn’t the smartest guy around, but he _knew_ — that today, Butch had been hell bent on destroying his son.

Henry got into the car.

“Just us?” he said instead of _Hey_.

“Just us,” Belch said instead of _I missed you all day_.

The benefit of this thing they had going on for so long was that they didn’t need to say things outright to communicate. When Henry asked if it was just gonna be him and Belch, what he meant was _can I be honest? Can I stop hiding like I always have to?_

What Belch meant when he said yes was _of course, you never have to hide with me_.

But they were just boys, and boys never say what they mean.

“Wanna go to the quarry?” Belch asked. “It’s hot as hell.”

“Fuck yeah,” said Henry. “Let’s go.”

They drove out to the quarry in companionable silence — a silence that was only barely haunted by the memory of Butch and his hands, Butch and his belt.

Belch would bet his right arm that today, it was his belt.

They got to the quarry, parked, and walked a ways. They seemed to be the only people there that day, and Belch was relieved. When other people were around on days like this, Henry could get violent — so violent it made Belch’s head spin. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be right there with him, but sometimes, it just made him tired.

He’d once talked to Vic — in a spare moment of brutal honesty — and Vic had asked if he thought Henry would go _too far_ one day. Belch hadn’t known what to say, so he’d said the truth: that he hoped not.

It was a little out of selfishness, that hope. If, one day, Henry went _too far_ — that would be the end. The end of Henry, of what he and Belch had.

And Belch wasn’t itching for the end. Still, after all this time, he felt like he was only starting, only scratching the surface.

When they got to the best cliff, they stripped. Henry kept on facing Belch, hiding his back from him as he pulled off his shirt and pushed his pants down. When he was down to his underwear, he stretched, raising his arms above his head until his shoulders popped.

Belch smiled and followed him, stripping down to his boxers.

“You wanna go first?” he asked, gesturing to the cliff.

“You too chicken?” Henry countered.

Belch laughed. “Are you?”

“Fuck you, man,” Henry chuckled. “Fine, I’ll go.”

He took a running start and hurled himself off the cliff into the water below. Belch watched him go, admired the muscles in his shoulders as his arms pinwheeled, ignored the lashes on his back.

He hoped the cool water would feel good on them.

Then he threw himself off the cliff, making a huge splash as he came down, cold water rushing in to surround him. He surfaced with a gasp to Henry treading water, grinning at him.

“Pussy,” Henry said.

“Fuck you,” Belch laughed.

Henry swam over and dunked Belch’s head underwater. When Belch came back up, he was sputtering, spitting out water.

“Fuck. You,” he said, laughing harder.

He splashed Henry in the face, and Henry retaliated in delight.

In fifteen minutes, they were done messing around, and they sat on the rocks with a radio between them, not talking, not doing anything but enjoying the music and silence between them.

Henry went to lay on his back, then, grimacing, rolled over to his stomach.

Belch swallowed hard, watching him, looking at the marks that crisscrossed his back.

If he could get away with it, he’d beat Butch senseless. If he could get away with it, he’d kill him.

If it had been a perfect world, Butch Bowers would have already been dead.

“Hank?” Belch said, carefully.

Henry grunted in response, his face turned away from Belch.

Belch didn’t say anything until Henry turned his head to face him, mumbling, “What d’you want?”

Belch jerked his head back, locking eyes with Henry.

“C’mere.”

“What, you horny or something?”

“Or something.”

Henry got to his knees, then his feet, coming to stand in front of Belch.

“What do you want?” asked Henry again.

Belch pulled him in, both arms around him, resting his cheek on Henry’s stomach. Henry sucked in a breath, surprised or shocked or just plain turned on.

Belch was pretty sure, though he didn’t know how, but he thought that Henry was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For this thing they had to stop happening. For Belch to lose interest, or for him to push Henry away.

Belch would never. He couldn’t.

It wasn’t love, just plain loyalty.

It wouldn’t be love for another year or so.

“Wanna make you feel good, Hank. What d’you think?”

“You wanna suck my dick, _sweetheart_?”

That was Henry — pulling out a noxious nickname to hide from how he really felt. As if words could hide how his dick was getting hard and there was no way Belch could miss that, with his face only inches away. As if words could really hide anything when the person you’re talking to fucking knows you like their own fucking heartbeat.

“Yeah, I do.”

Henry grinned down at him, ran a hand through his hair. It was longer this summer than he usually kept it, curly and unruly. Henry tugged on it just a little bit and Belch smiled and sighed.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” said Henry.

He stood there watching as Belch slid his underwear down to his feet and nosed at Henry’s dick. When Belch took it into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the head, Henry groaned quietly, and Belch almost lost the sound in the music coming from the radio. Henry threw his head back as Belch took the entire thing into his mouth, pushing his nose to Henry’s naval.

This was when Belch felt like he was doing the most he could for Henry: when he was making him feel good with his mouth, with his hands, with his dick. Sure, he could bring Henry food or drive him around or just be there, but this was different. This was something better than anything else he could possibly do for him, and he was always looking for opportunities.

He took it, sucking his cock like it was his favorite thing to do, because well. It was.

“That’s it, Belch. Fuck, suck my dick,” said Henry, pulling Belch’s hair harder, making him grunt. “You like that? You like it when I pull your hair?”

Belch pulled off of Henry’s cock for just a moment to say, “yeah, keep doin’ it,” before he went right back to business, tonguing at the vein on the underside of it.

Henry pulled harder on his hair, fucking his hips forward, pushing his cock deeper into Belch’s mouth. Belch moaned, opening his mouth wider so Henry would take the hint and fuck his face.

Henry did, holding Belch by the back of his hair with both hands, fucking into his mouth sloppy and fast. It didn’t take long for him to come, and Belch swallowed all of it without a second thought. Henry pulled out, and took Belch by the chin, forcing his mouth open so he could see.

“Good,” he said. Then he pulled his underwear back on and sat down next to Belch, stretching his legs out.

Henry was nothing if not shitty at reciprocating.

“Henry,” Belch said, glancing down at the front of his own underwear, tented up by his hard dick.

“Hm?” said Henry. Then, he followed Belch’s gaze and laughed. “Jesus, you get turned on just by giving me head.”

It was nothing new, it had happened countless times before.

“Yeah. You uh, you gonna do something about it?”

“Sure, I’ll jerk you off.”

That wasn’t what Belch had been hoping for, but he could always get a blow job another day.

He stood for a moment and pushed down his underwear. He was going to sit back down, but Henry reached out and took his dick in his hand, slowly stroking from the head down to the base. He watched Belch’s face with fascination, for some reason always interested in how it made him react, how it made him feel.

Henry jerked him off slowly, teasing him, running his thumb over the head, over the slit.

Belch put his hand in Henry’s hair and tried not to look at him with anything like adoration, though that was a tough task to accomplish. It was there, and he was himself, and he knew — he just knew.

It wasn’t love, not yet.

When he came, he came sighing, his cum all over Henry’s hand. Henry dangled his hand in the water near their outcropping of rocks and washed it off, humming some old Hank Williams song. Then he went back to laying on his stomach.

Belch laid down beside him, facing him, with his chin propped up on his hands. Henry looked at him and crossed his eyes. Belch laughed, a big, happy thing that he was glad to bring along today.

“One day,” he said. “One day, we’re gonna get out of this fuckin’ town.”

“I’m getting out and I’m taking you with me.”

Belch grinned.

He’d go anywhere with Henry. Anywhere.

It wasn’t love, not yet. Just plain loyalty.

By the time they got out of Derry, it was love.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblrat god--baby.tumblr.com


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